SPRINGBOKS ON A SALT-PAN 195 



wander over the pans, and leave their spoor upon the 

 smooth white sand ; and the fleeting springbok, the 

 very acme and perfection of feral grace and motion, 

 may be seen at all hours of the day. The springbok 

 dearly loves a salt-pan ; its presence adds a singular 

 charm to these flat and dazzling expanses ; and in no 

 part of the boundless veldt of Southern Africa are the 

 tricks, the graces, and the marvellous leaping powers 

 of these matchless antelopes more perfectly displayed 

 or more easily to be observed. 



Let us stand by the side of a hunter at one of the 

 smaller of these salt-pans. It is early morning in the 

 desert, the air is sharp and clear ; one may keep up 

 one's coat collar for half-an-hour yet, and one's coat on 

 for a good hour. It seems but a few minutes since the 

 morning star sprang above the horizon, yet he is now 

 climbing the sky at a pace that seems incredible. 

 Yonder in the east, the great red disk of sun, now 

 half upon the skyline, is painting the heavens most 

 gorgeously. Upward he flings his rosy banners, which 

 flaunt in the pale green sky far towards the zenith. 

 Three hundred yards away there, to the right of the 

 pan, lumbers an old blue wildebeest bull (brindled 

 gnu), which has somehow got our wind, and is canter- 

 ing off. Let him rip ; it is a long, chancy shot, and 

 we shall disturb the springbok. Poor old brute ! he 

 is a solitary, and now wanders the veldt alone, unless 

 he can pick up company with an ostrich or two, or 



